


Coffee and Tea

by BritishShinshi



Series: Demolishing Writer's Block [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gakuen, BTT being overprotective of arthur, Cardverse, Drabbles, M/M, Married Couple, More tags to be added, Mutual Pining, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BritishShinshi/pseuds/BritishShinshi
Summary: Just a collection of random UsUk drabbles.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: Demolishing Writer's Block [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798177
Comments: 21
Kudos: 72





	1. Where You Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Staying Up Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to attempt to write a drabble a day for the rest of July. Hopefully writing every day can me help get rid of my writer's block lol.

Alfred woke up in the middle of the night feeling awfully cold. He sought for warmth, reaching an arm to pull his boyfriend closer, but his arm felt nothing. His hand raked through the cold duvet beside him and he frowned. Where was Arthur? Had he fallen off the bed again?

Opening his eyes, Alfred caught sight of the light peeking through their bedroom door. Despite his drowsy state, he managed to infer that no, Arthur did not fall off the bed - he was still inside the living room watching that favorite show of his.

Alfred groaned, glaring at the door before kicking the useless duvet off his legs. He tread heavily towards the door, hoping his noisy steps would be heard by the man downstairs. 

When Alfred reached the stairs, he saw Arthur laying on the couch, completely wrapped in a blanket except for his head. The television in front of him was playing a show in Netflix, and no surprise, it was showcasing Sherlock Holmes. 

Alfred rolled his eyes as he sauntered down the stairs. Arthur had been too focused on the show that he didn't notice Alfred's sudden presence right beside him. For the next few minutes, Arthur remained heavily focused on the television screen, and if he did notice Alfred standing next to the couch, he didn't acknowledge him because he was too busy ogling at Mr. Holmes.

When the episode ended, the screen displaying 'Next Episode', Arthur pulled out an arm from his cocoon of blankets with the remote already in his hand. With his eyes still loyal to the television screen, Arthur pointed the remote forward, and just before he could press the button to move on to the next episode, the remote was whisked away.

Alfred scoffed as he watched Arthur's eyebrows furrow in confusion, his perplexed emerald eyes staring oddly at his empty palm as though the remote had magically disappeared.

"I think that's enough Sherlock for you," Alfred chided. "You've been binge watching that show for two full days, Arthur."

The latter finally looked up to see his cranky boyfriend hovering over him with crossed arms. But when Arthur's eye caught sight of the remote in Alfred's hand, he didn’t say anything and instead, sat up and reached for the remote.

Alfred pulled it away from his reach. "You need to stop watching, Arthur. L-… look at your eyes!" Alfred exclaimed, horrified to see how bloodshot Arthur's eyes were. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Arthur shook his head. "No, one more episode."

"That's literally what you said-" Alfred checked the clock before snapping, "Three _hours_ ago!"

"But there's one more episode left in the season!" Arthur fought back. 

"Just watch it tomorrow."

"But I need to watch it _now_ ," Arthur stressed. "It's a special episode. The setting is in the nineteenth century this time. I promise I'll go to bed once the episode is done."

Alfred didn't look convinced. Nevertheless, Arthur attempted to snatch the remote back, but Alfred pulled it away. Arthur continued to reach for the remote, grabbing onto Alfred's shoulders and using the couch's armrest for extra height.

"Come on, Alfred, _please_ ," Arthur begged, almost desperately - god damn. It stunned Alfred to see Arthur bat puppy dog eyes at him, even adding a small pout for more effect. Alfred wasn't going to lie, it did kind of work. He couldn't believe Arthur was using the same tactic against him. 

Before Alfred could fall under the spell, he looked away and turned the television off, causing the other man to cry in despair. Alfred only rolled his eyes at Arthur before placing the remote on a high shelf. 

"I need to finish the season-!"

"No, you need to sleep," Alfred retorted. Before Arthur could complain any longer, Alfred scooped him in his arms and headed back to the bedroom, turning off the router on the way - just in case Arthur was sneaky enough to use his laptop or phone to watch the show.

"I need to find out how Moriarity's still alive! That episode is going to reveal it!"

"Don’t care, darlin'."

Arthur, with his pride and stubbornness, flailed and thrashed in Alfred's arms. It was a good thing he was still wrapped inside the blankets, because it helped him stay in one place. When it became obvious that Arthur wouldn't keep still, Alfred reached down and pinched one of Arthur's butt cheeks, earning a yelp and a stutter from the latter. 

"Alfred!" Arthur screeched, his face flushing red.

Alfred ignored his banter as he returned to the bedroom, turning of any lights behind them before closing the door. He threw Arthur unceremoniously on the bed, climbed up with him, kissed him hard on the lips to shut him up, and then pulled the duvet over them.

"Hmp," Arthur huffed in the darkness to showcase his anger, but Alfred was already immune to Arthur's stubbornness. 

"Love you," Alfred confessed drowsily into the other's hair. He pulled the smaller man, grounding him with his legs to ensure the latter didn't dare escape. Alfred heard Arthur mutter the words back. Smiling, he kissed Arthur's head before pulling him closer to where he belonged; in Alfred's arms. 


	2. Hold Onto Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: At a Pool/Beach

"Come on, I got you," America assured, holding onto one end of the pool noodle England was using. He swam farther from the shore with England on tow.

Meanwhile, England kept his head down, watching anxiously at the growing distance between his feet and the sandy sea floor. "I'm sure this is far enough, love," England said nervously, his grip around the floater becoming tighter. He jerked when something brushed against his toes. "America? I think we're going too far."

America laughed, but he stopped nonetheless. "I can still feel the sand, England," he snickered. The water was below America's chin, and it was true, his feet were still grounded on the seafloor.

"That's because you're taller!" England retorted, his eyes still glued to his feet. His odd behavior towards the beach was due to the fact that he couldn't swim, which is a little ridiculous given England was a pirate back in the days. The pool noodle was the only thing keeping him afloat, and although the ring-shaped floater would have been better, England was too ashamed to use it albeit him and America being the only ones present at the beach right now.

America pulled the pool noodle closer so England floated in front of him. "Don't worry too much, old man," he teased with a smug grin, but when England refused to look back despite the annoying jab, America sighed before lifting England's chin. "Hey, relax, you'll be alright. There's nothing but sand under us. The beach is at low tide so the water’s really nice."

"I think I prefer the more shallow area, or maybe I'll just lay down under the shade by the shore."

"But that's not fun! The water feels fantastic!" America pouted. "We only have today and tomorrow left on this island; at least try to have fun! The beaches are the best part of this place!"

England meant to reply with words, but a high-pitched scream came out of his mouth instead. "Something keeps touching my feet!" He cried, thrashing his legs against the blue water. "America! Bring me back to the shore!"

America yelped when England accidentally kicked his thigh. "Ow! Hey, watch it! Calm down, England!" He reached for his distressed partner, grabbing his waist before pulling him towards the large boulder peeking out from the water. Thankfully, England stopped squirming as America grabbed a hold of his hips, lifting him over the boulder so he could sit. "Geez, you're such a drama queen. It was probably just a fish or something."

England pinched America's cheek. "Or a sea urchin, you git."

"Ow!" America whined, pulling his head back but he kept his hands on the other's hips. "The locals said that the sea urchins don't come out until sunset. Which is a bummer. I wanted to watch the sunset with you while we're still on the water."

"I'm flattered. But we could always just watch from the shore. You know, it's not too late to turn back."

"Haha, nice try," America said, poking his tongue out. "Come on, babe, we're supposed to make the best of this trip! I booked a vacation all the way here just so we can spend time with each other. Aren't you having fun?"

England sighed before cupping America's cheek, caressing the area he pinched earlier. "I am having fun. I'm just not fond of swimming. But I do appreciate the quick holiday. Thank you so much, love," he said, leaning down to press a kiss on America's forehead.

The younger nation beamed at that praise. America hummed as he closed his eyes and nuzzled England's hand, seeking for the familiar, warm touch.

England needed to give America some credit. The island that America picked, Tinian, was absolutely beautiful, and England admired how peaceful and kind the locals were. The island belonged to the US, but they had their own culture that they proudly presented to their tourists. Since it was a fairly small island with few residents, sometimes it felt as though it was a private island for him and America. The tranquility felt great given how much stress both of them endured from the previous months.

Right now, he and America were at one of the beaches, 'Taga' it was called (it was fascinating and convenient that the beach was only a two-minute walk from their hotel). The beach was a small sandy area surrounded by small cliffs, which were short enough for people to use as jumping platforms to dive into the crystal blue waters.

"Hey! Watch me jump off from there!" America exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the tallest jumping platform. "I'm gonna look so cool. Be right back, babe!" America pulled England down to kiss his cheek before swimming quickly towards the shore.

England glared at him. "Don't leave me here!"

"You'll be fine!" America had shouted back with a laugh.

"Idiot," England muttered under his breath. He watched the younger nation climb up the ladder, and then he jogged down the path leading to the platforms. Once America stood above the cliff, he winked at England before flaunting and flexing his muscles like an idiot. England rolled his eyes and booed, slightly embarrassed at the display but thankful that nobody was here to witness America's idiocy. Nevertheless, England would never admit that he was secretly liking the show America was putting.

"Don't look away!" America yelled, taking a few steps back and then he ran, jumping at the very edge of the cliff. "Yahoo!" He hollered, curling into a ball as he dove into the water.

England chuckled as he shielded his eyes from the splash. He waited for the younger nation to resurface so he could say a joke, but that never happened.

"America?" England called, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. When America still hasn't surfaced, England grew more worried. "Alfred?”

England called America's name a few more times, but the silence was causing his heart to race. Dread sliced through England's veins as his blood grew cold. However, the older nation was far too distressed to notice the wet steps behind him, and just before England could think of what to do, two large hands grabbed his shoulders from behind before pushing him slightly.

"Got'cha!" America yelled right next to England's right ear. The latter didn't know if America's voice was what scared him, or the fact America had pretended to push him off into the deep water.

For a fraction of a second, England was utterly horrified, but the irritating sound that was America's laugh echoed throughout the beach caused a deadly scowl to twist on England's face. The dolt had swam around the boulder to sneak up behind him.

"You prat!" England yelled, scooping up a handful of salt water before whirling it straight to America's face, but the latter had dodged, his laugh growing louder and more annoying. "Fuck you!"

America's laugh abated, turning into small chuckles as he ruffled England's hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely. He took a seat next to England, but the latter had turned his head away from him.

"Hey, I said sorry," America said with a soft, apologetic tone. He wrapped an arm around England's shoulders. But when the latter refused to look at him, guilt had slapped him across the face. "Arthur, I'm sorry. I won't do that again, I promise."

"Break that promise and I swear I'm not following you in another one of your escapades."

America chuckled, stealing England's chin before placing a soft kiss on his stubborn nose. "Noted." He continued placing little kisses on England's flushed cheeks, and eventually, his lips met England's and they shared a short, passionate kiss. "So… was I cool?"

England rolled his eyes, pressing his hand against America's chest to push him away. "Sure, love, you were."

America laughed at that. "You wanna try and jump?"

"No."

"I'll be there to catch you!"

"Never in a million years."

America pouted. "Next time then?"

"There's a next time?" England lifted a brow.

"Yeah! We should come here again. It's pretty quiet and their beaches are awesome. It's such a small place that it feels like it's just the two of us here. So we should totally come back!"

"Mhmm. And what would your boss think?"

America chuckled nervously. His boss was unaware of this trip. "He doesn't know I'm here; in fact, he thinks it’s the last place I'd go to. He sometimes forgets about these islands. Heck, I do too."

"I'm guessing you don't come here that often then?"

America shook his head. "Nah." he said as he glanced at the horizon, where the blue water met the sky. It really was beautiful here. "The last time I was here was 1944." During World War II. Tinian, as well as the rest of the islands that made up the commonwealth, were under Japan's rule during the second world war until the islands were seized by the US. They were eventually turned into airbases. Yesterday, America had brought England to North Field to see the infamous atomic bomb pits that loaded Fat Man and Little Boy into the two delivery bombers, Enola Gay and Bockscar. "A lot has changed."

"I'd come back again," England confessed.

"Really?" America asked, and England smiled at how bright and excited his eyes were. "The food's really good too. It reminds me a lot of Hawaii."

"Just make sure you notify me, _a month ahead_ , for our next trip instead of dropping by at the last minute."

“I will, I will,” America snickered. “I’m a little scared to go back home actually. I don’t know what my boss is going to do to me. I never told him I was leaving.”

"I don’t know what _my_ boss is going to do to you once he finds out that _you_ kidnapped me," England accused, poking a finger to America's tanned chest. England grinned when he saw America shudder in fear.

America didn't reply, instead, he squeezed and rubbed England's shoulder as they enjoyed and savored the peaceful moment. Times like this were rare for them, and despite their petty squabbles and jabs, they would do anything to have a moment like this, where there's just the two of them.

They nudged each other's legs under water, and although they were silent, words weren't always needed. For several minutes they watched the sky turn into different colors, from light blue to a mix of red, orange, and yellow.

Once they saw the sun descending down, ready to disappear under the horizon, England turned his attention towards America, his hand tugging the other’s arm. The younger nation was perplexed, questioning England's actions until he cupped his cheeks and tugged him down for a kiss.

Excitement bubbled in America's chest as he closed his eyes shut and leaned down, happy and overjoyed to see England initiate a kiss first. However, just before their lips could meet, England grabbed onto America's shoulders before hurling the larger nation into the water.

It was England's turn to laugh as he watched America rise to the surface, wheezing and coughing out the saltwater that went in his nose.

"That's for scaring me, you dolt."


	3. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lazy Sunday Morning

Alfred was always greeted with the sun kissing his eyes every Sunday morning. He slowly stirred awake, the sunlight chasing away every ounce of his drowsiness. The first thing he sees the second he opened his eyes was the tuft of hair under his nose. He smiled, leaning down to breathe in the familiar scent of lavender and rosemary that lingered on his husband's soft, golden tresses.

Sunday is the best day of the week for Alfred and Arthur. The pair lived in a very structured routine throughout the week due to their demanding jobs. Even though they both worked in the medical field and the same hospital, their schedules often overlap, and sometimes while one is at home, the other is at work. Everyday was the same routine; the same, torturous routine that only gave them a short moment to kiss and embrace just before they're forced to separate again. It was like this every. Single. Day.

Except for Sundays that is.

It was the only day of the week where they could do whatever they want with each other without their jobs interfering. Sundays, just like every day of their week, were always structured and organized to ensure they make the best of it. And every morning, they start the day with a big, delicious breakfast - which Alfred makes because Arthur was banned from the kitchen.

Alfred had woken up with Arthur in his arms. The latter was pressed against his chest, snoring quietly in his sleep. Nevertheless, Arthur began to stir awake because of Alfred’s incessant kisses on his head. The shorter man groaned, turning his head as an attempt to shoo Alfred away, but the man continued peppering his freckled face with more kisses.

"Stop," Arthur croaked. 

"What time did you come home?" Alfred asked, his lips now nibbling on the other's jaw.

Arthur hummed. "Four."

Alfred stilled, flabbergasted by Arthur's reply. "Four?" He pulled away to hover above his drowsy partner.

"Yes, now please let me go back to sleep."

"Alright then," Alfred said, leaning down to press one more kiss between Arthur's eyebrows to get rid of that stubborn furrow. "I'll make us some breakfast."

Alfred sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. Just before he could stand up, Arthur grabbed onto his arm, tugging it down. "No…" Arthur muttered.

"Hmm?" Alfred glanced back, only to melt at the sight of Arthur's emerald eyes peeking behind heavy eyelids.

"Don't go," Arthur said, tugging Alfred's arm so the other could take the hint. "Stay with me."

With those eyes and that cute bedhead of his, Alfred would have crawled back under the covers in a heartbeat. Alfred palmed Arthur's hand, squeezing it gently before bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "I need to make breakfast, babe."

"Later," Arthur stressed before closing his eyes. "Sleep." He couldn't argue further because of how drowsy he was.

Alfred only chuckled as a response. He placed Arthur's hand back on the bed so he can resume his early task, but once again, just before he could leave the bed, Arthur latched onto him.

"Nooooo," Arthur whined, sitting up slowly to hug Alfred from behind. "I said don't go." To ensure Alfred doesn't leave, Arthur tightens his embrace before wrapping his legs around Alfred’s waist.

"That's not gonna stop me, Arthur," Alfred replied with a grin. He stood up, expecting Arthur to let go, but he glued onto the taller man like a leech. Alfred stood up with Arthur on his back. "Okay, now you're being ridiculous," he laughed, holding onto Arthur's thighs.

"Alfred," Arthur murmured against the back of Alfred's neck, his lips tickling the skin underneath.

"I can't make breakfast with you like this," Alfred said with a pout.

"Then don't make breakfast," Arthur continued to press. "Stay."

Alfred sighed. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"

"Mhmm."

Giving in to his husband's stubbornness, Alfred sat back down, and Arthur happily pulled him under the covers. Arthur was quick to fall back into slumber, snoring quietly the second Alfred encased him in his arms.

Alfred could get up and escape into the kitchen if he was sneaky enough. Every second of their Sunday needed to be well spent given how their brief time together was so precious. They needed to spend as much time together. But as Alfred watched Arthur sleep, so peaceful and calm, he figured staying in bed with his husband would be a day well spent.


	4. The Best Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Birthday

Arthur was the first one to greet Alfred on his birthday.

Alfred walked out of his room, reading Arthur's sweet message on his phone. Calling it a message was an understatement; it might as well be an essay! It was quite lengthy, but Alfred treasured every single word regardless.

Rubbing away the drowsiness in his eyes, Alfred couldn't stop smiling at the heartfelt declarations sprinkled everywhere in Arthur's message. It made Alfred swoon and all giddy on the inside. And he thought _he_ was the romantic in their relationship. Arthur's words were so poetic and thoughtful that it made Alfred's heart melt.

It would have been even better if Arthur was here to say those words.

That thought made Alfred's smile falter. He felt his heart ache as he read the last paragraph of Arthur's message. Reading the last few words was like saying goodbye to him again.

Alfred was brought back to a woeful recollection; of where he and Arthur stood at the airport, their bodies locked in a warm, tight embrace. Neither had the heart to let go until it was time for Arthur to check in. Seeing him walk away was the most painful sight Alfred had ever seen. It took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from taking Arthur back to their home.

He was on his way to England to study in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, Cambridge. It was one of the universities that Arthur had applied to, and Alfred, to this day, can still remember the shock in Arthur's eyes when he received his acceptance letter.

It was a rapturous day for them, and a sorrowful one as well.

Arthur's acceptance into Cambridge meant he had to leave America. Their original plan was to attend the same university together after high school, and there were already a few universities in which both of them were accepted, but when Arthur's letter from Cambridge arrived, Alfred had wanted him to take the opportunity. Even if it meant they were going to be separated.

They survived the first year with video calls and text messages. But seeing each other on the screen was nothing compared to seeing each other in real life. Alfred longed to see Arthur buried in his arms, to see him smile, to feel his lips and hear his voice whisper sweet things in his ear.

To have Arthur with him for just one day, Alfred would give up anything at this point.

Alfred finished reading the message by the time he reached the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Instead of replying through text, Alfred went for the call button; as he always does. Once Arthur picked up, Alfred didn't waste time telling Arthur what he felt about the message. It didn’t even occur to Alfred that fifteen minutes have already passed by, and he hasn't even poured the milk on his cereal yet.

 _I delivered a gift, you know_ , Arthur said, his voice distorted through the call.

"You did?" Excitement bubbled in Alfred's chest. "What did you get me?"

_It hasn't arrived yet?_

"I don't think so. I haven't seen anything in the mailbox," Alfred explained. He balanced his cellphone between his shoulder and ear while he opened the milk carton on the counter.

_That's funny. They said it should deliver today._

As though it was on cue, there was a knock on Alfred's front door.

 _What was that?_ Arthur asked.

"I think that might be your box, darlin'," Alfred responded, his voice instantly filled with anticipation. He abandoned his bowl of cereal to answer the door. Alfred could feel the corner of his lips reach his ears the closer he reached the door.

He expected to see the mailman, ready to deliver Arthur's gift, but as he opened the door, he didn't expect Arthur to be the one standing outside, holding his phone in one hand and a bouquet of red roses in the other.

Alfred only gave himself a fraction of a second to feel surprised before engulfing the shorter man in a tight embrace. Joy and exhilaration blossomed in his heart as he hoisted Arthur in the air. Alfred could already feel his eyes burning the moment he heard Arthur's hearty laugh, his voice echoing like an angel's.

Arthur, once Alfred placed him back on his feet after spinning him around, asked him with a grin. "Ready for your gift?"

"I thought _you_ were my gift?" Alfred winked. He laughed when Arthur's face turned as red as the roses in his arms. "I'll open it later. Right now, I just want you."

There was no greater gift in the world than Arthur.


	5. Invisibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Watching A Movie (also featuring the Bad Touch Trio! A request from anon)

"Toni, take off the sunglasses!" Francis snapped just before entering the movie theaters with Antonio and Gilbert. "We're going to look suspicious!"

"Uhm, I think we already do," Gilbert pointed out, gesturing to their… questionable attire. They looked as though they were  _ asking  _ to get kicked out. "Maybe the hoodies weren't a good idea."

"But it helped disguise us, does it not?" Francis asked, but Gilbert just shrugged.

"We could have worn wigs," Antonio suggested.

Francis cringed. "I am not making my hair endure that. I'm already dreading wearing this ugly thing," he replied bitterly at the baggy hoodie he was wearing. Antonio sputtered, offended by Francis' comment about his jacket. "Just take off the sunglasses! Who even wears those at night?"

Antonio huffed as he slid the sunglasses off. "I thought it would help conceal my face better."

"No. You look like you're about to rob a bank." Francis rolled his eyes. "Now come. Alfred and Arthur are already inside."

Antonio and Gilbert nodded, reminding themselves of their mission tonight. Adjusting the hoods of their jacket, the trio entered the movie theaters casually, their eyes focused on the pair standing in front of the ticket booth. They slowly approached them, keeping an appropriate distance far enough so they didn't look suspicious, but close enough for them to hear what movie they were going to watch.

"The Invisible Man?" Arthur asked, "I thought you didn't like horror movies?"

"Not the ones with ghosts in them," Alfred said as he collected their tickets. When he turned to give Arthur his ticket, the latter stared at him with an incredulous look. "What? Ghosts are scary. There's nothing you can do to protect yourself from them since you can't touch them. Punching them is useless."

"So the Invisible Man isn't scary?"

"Not really. It's just a guy wearing a suit that makes him invisible. Nothing's scary about science," Alfred shrugged.

Arthur raised a brow. "How do you know it's just a man wearing a suit?"

"I've seen the trailer. There's this scene where the girl doused the guy with paint, and it showed him wearing a suit over his body. They kinda spoiled it in the trailer, not gonna lie," Alfred replied. He did watch the trailer, but he wasn't going to tell Arthur that he already watched the movie as well.

Regardless if a horror movie had ghosts or not, jump scares always got him screaming to the top of his lungs. Which was why Alfred watched the movie beforehand so he’ll know when to expect a jump scare. This was their first date and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. Plus, he could act all cool and dandy and offer Arthur an arm around his shoulder whenever he felt afraid. Alfred could focus more on having Arthur snuggle against him rather than worrying about when the next jump scare was going to happen. This night was going to be  _ great _ .

"Horror movies with people as the 'monsters' aren't really that scary," Alfred shrugged smugly.

Malevolence danced on Arthur's lips as he grinned. "I think I know what movie we're watching next time."

"So there's a next time, hm?" Alfred chuckled when Arthur's face heated up. He pinched one of Arthur's pink cheeks. "You wanna get some snacks?"

"Ah, yes," Arthur replied, flustered. He tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear before glancing at the snack bar. "I'll pay for it this time since you already paid for our tickets."

"Sounds good," Alfred said as they left the booth to purchase their snacks.

Meanwhile, three pairs of eyes glared at the back of Alfred's head.

"Boy's getting a little handsy," Gilbert sneered while Francis bought their tickets. "Should we break them up now and bring Arthur back home?"

"Gilbert, we're not here to  _ ruin  _ their date," Francis chastised. "Arthur would hate us. We're only here to ensure Alfred doesn't do anything too edgy to him."

"But if he does then can we break them up?"

"Yes, yes, we can do that if we need to." When Gilbert looked too excited, Francis lifted a hand as a warning, "Only if Arthur starts feeling uncomfortable. Then that's when we can step in."

It wasn't as though Alfred was a creep or anything. They were just being plainly overprotective of Arthur.

Alfred was a transfer student from America. He was already winning several hearts the second he entered the doors of their academy. Because of Alfred's instant rise in popularity, many envious students didn't like him, and among those students were Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio. And Arthur as well at one point. The American had been the butt of their jokes for several months, with Arthur being the source of it all, but all the jokes diminished when Alfred had unexpectedly asked Arthur on a date. And that fact had made the other three utterly discombobulated.

_ What?!  _ Antonio had exclaimed while Francis and Gilbert stood behind him, wearing identical, petrified expressions.  _ I thought you didn't like him?! _

To which Arthur replied, with a small, shy smile,  _ He's my seatmate for chemistry. After knowing him better for a few weeks, I realized he's… not that bad. He's quite charming to be honest… _

The three of them didn't know what shocked them more: Alfred asking Arthur out or the fact that Arthur was all flustered and red-faced whilst he informed them about the date. The Englishman was completely  _ smitten _ .

Their response acted as though it was the end of the world. What if Alfred was trying to get revenge on Arthur? The American must have found out about his hate group, and now he was probably plotting a rebound by targeting Arthur first. This triggered every protective nerve in their systems, which explains why they were stalking Arthur and Alfred while dressed in ghetto hoodies to mask their identities.

It wasn't their intent to ruin the date. Arthur was like the little brother of their group; someone that they always playfully picked on, but would always protect at all cost. Alfred gave them playboy vibes; which was why they needed to ensure Arthur was mentally and physically safe from whatever Alfred was planning to do.

"They just bought their snacks," Francis whispered to the other two. Alfred and Arthur left the snack bar with two drinks and a bucket of popcorn in their hands. "You two go ahead and follow them while I buy snacks. Make sure to get the seats nearest to them."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Antonio and Gilbert replied together, bringing their hands up to a salute.

Francis rolled his eyes. "And don't look too suspicious. We can't blow our cover."

"Don't you worry, Franny," Gilbert assured. "Oh, and I want nachos and a large cup of Sprite."

"Popcorn and Pepsi for me!"

Why did this steak out suddenly get so expensive?

…..

The three of them were situated behind Alfred and Arthur, a perfect location that lets them oversee everything. So far, nothing has happened for thirty minutes, but Francis had kept an attentive eye on Alfred. Gilbert and Antonio seemed to be too absorbed by the movie, or mostly Antonio actually, because he was holding the popcorn bucket over his eyes as the movie turned ominous and eerie, a sign that a jump scare was about to happen.

Nevertheless, both Francis and Gilbert noticed Alfred shifting in his seat, as if to scoot closer towards Arthur. Their keen eyes watched as Alfred stretched his arms over his head, and once they saw the American's right arm dangerously descending down over Arthur's seat, alarm bells went off in Francis' and Gilbert's heads.

Gilbert was the first to think of something. In a fraction of a second, he lets out the loudest fake cough that echoed in the entire theater. He turned it into noisy wheezing as he rapped his chest with his fist to add effect.

"Sorry, sorry," Gilbert said aloud, smirking to himself when he saw Alfred's arm withdraw back. Francis mirrored his smirk.

And that was what started they're task at ensuring Alfred doesn't lay a finger on their oblivious Brit. When Alfred started getting brave again, pretending to brush a hand through his hair as an attempt to place his arm around Arthur's shoulder, Francis slightly kicked the back of Alfred's seat, and it successfully scared the American's arm away.

They've been at it like this for several minutes. Francis and Gilbert tried their best to conceal their laughter because they could literally feel the atmosphere turned hot due to Alfred's annoyance. He even turned around for a second to acknowledge that he was getting irritated by Francis constantly kicking his chair, but it doesn't stop the Frenchman.

Alfred stopped trying at one point. For several minutes, Alfred stayed still with his arms crossed. His entire posture screamed he was annoyed. A part of Francis felt a little guilty for doing this, but what mattered right now was Arthur and only Arthur, who was kept clueless of what was going on. As the movie progressed on, and Alfred showed no sign of moving, Francis and Gilbert laid back and let themselves have a break.

At one point they were so heavily engrossed in the film that they didn't notice Arthur lean his head down on Alfred's shoulder. It seemed to please the latter, because he reciprocated by leaning his head atop of Arthur's. Gilbert noticed this when he glanced down. Distressed, he nudged Francis' arm to alert him.

"They're too close," Gilbert muttered quietly.

Francis kicked Alfred's chair once again, but this time, the American didn't respond. Francis tries again, harder, but Alfred continues to ignore him. Since Arthur had been the one to make the first move, there wasn't anything that they could do to pull them away. And Alfred already had his arm snaked around Arthur's shoulders already!

An opportunity opened when a jump scare, the biggest one so far, popped up, scaring the majority of the people inside the theater. Antonio, who was watching the entire time, screamed, his arms and legs jerking up so hard that it sent the popcorn on his lap flying towards Alfred's head.

The pair had separated instantly when the buttered snacks rained upon them. "Dude, what the hell?!" Alfred barked, standing up in his seat before turning around to glare at them - no one seemed to silence the enraged young man because everyone was still in the aftershock effects of the jump scare.

"Alfred, it's fine," Arthur said, grabbing onto his arms to tug him back to his seat. Thankfully, Arthur managed to calm him down. Alfred looked like he was ready to  _ fight _ .

When the American sat down on his chair, the trio released a deep sigh of relief.

That was close.

…..

"Francis, hurry up!" Gilbert fussed, urging Francis to drive faster. After the popcorn incident, Alfred and Arthur didn't try anything to get close to each other, which the other three were thankful for, but when they all filed to go outside the theaters after the movie ended, they lost sight of Alfred and Arthur. By the time they reached the parking lot, Alfred's car was already gone.

They knew where it went, to Arthur's house of course. Although Alfred was dropping him back to his home, the trio still refused to leave them by themselves. Even if Alfred didn't do anything drastic during the movie, he might be plotting his scheme now; when they were alone.

Francis reached Arthur's neighborhood, and once they parked near their driveway, they saw Alfred and Arthur standing near the front door. Their hearts sank when they caught a glimpse of Alfred, his hands latched onto the shorter man's arms. Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio were just about ready to bust out of the and pummel the younger man to the ground, but they stilled when they saw Alfred lean down to kiss Arthur's forehead.

The kiss was brief. Alfred straightened his back, smiled, and said a few words that they couldn't hear. Arthur spoke back, to which Alfred responded positively, his smile curling wider and his eyes beaming like the sun's.

They watched as Arthur cupped Alfred's face, pulling him down to kiss him fully on the lips. Just like before, the kiss was brief and Arthur pulled away instantly. He opened the front door to escape inside, leaving Alfred dumbfounded and awestruck. For several seconds Alfred stood on the same spot before bringing a hand to his lips. Something blossomed on Alfred's face; an expression that stunned all three men inside the car.

Alfred didn't look malice like what they expected; he looked like a guy that had just fallen in love.

They watched the American grin and punch the air as though he won the lottery. Looking at the door one last time, Alfred turned around to walk back to his car, the dopey grin still prominently visible on his face.

Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio remained quiet. It wasn't until Alfred got in his car and drove off when Gilbert decided to break the silence.

"So," he started, turning awkwardly to the other two. "We were… wrong?"

"I feel bad," Antonio confessed.

The realization hit them like a pile of bricks, leaving all three feeling dangerously guilty at what they've done.

"We need to apologize to them," Francis groaned, leaning his forehead down against the steering wheel. He bumped his head against it several times. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Uh, I'm not telling them. Did you see how angry Alfred was back there?" Antonio shuddered.

"Honestly, I'm more afraid of Arthur," Gilbert swallowed. "I'm pretty sure he's going to murder all of us. Franny, you should tell him. You've known each other longer."

"I agree!" Antonio exclaimed.

Francis' gut twisted. Of course he needed to be the person to do it.

But the question is: when?

…..

Francis decided to tell the story eight years later during his best man speech at Arthur's and Alfred's wedding.


	6. Get It Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Drawing the Other

Alfred's brows were knitted together in complete concentration. He focused on how his hand rubbed the graphite of the pencil across his sketchbook, moving effortlessly to produce clean, precise strokes. From time to time he would lift his eyes up to look at his muse, to study and memorize the little and prominent details on his face before transferring them to the paper.

Alfred's lips twisted to a deep frown. He glared at his sketch before turning his pencil upside down to erase the messy strokes, and then he went back to sketching, focusing more on the jaw and mouth. He glanced back to his muse, studying the shape and length of his jaw. And then he looked at his mouth, analyzing the curve of his lips and the distance of it between his nose and chin.

He kept glancing at his muse and sketchbook in between strokes, ensuring he drew the exact thing. Every small line mattered, every curve mattered, every shadow mattered; but somehow, no matter how many times Alfred drew and redrew it, he somehow couldn't get it right. The eyes weren't the same, the nose was way too off, the ears weren't proportioned to the face, and the jaw wasn't sharp enough.

All the little flaws of his drawing made him slam his pencil down, leaving the sketch unfinished. The small noise was censured by several people muttering 'shush!' at him, reminding the young man that he was inside the library. Alfred flinched before murmuring a small apology. Bowing his head down, he frowned at the messy portrait he'd produced.

Alfred was usually proud of his art. From doodles of superheroes since he was a kid to the portraits he draws now as a teenager, Alfred treasured every piece and treated it equally. He liked seeing his art evolve, and he commended himself whenever he saw improvement. Drawing was something important to him, something he valued because he's been doing it since he was, well, a baby.

It was his escape from the reality around him. Alfred accepts the fact that he was different, that he wasn't like the 'cool kids' and that he never will be. With his boring personality and non-existent social skills, Alfred was pushed aside like an outcast. It's not like he minded though; Alfred preferred being alone because there was nothing wrong with being an introvert. Instead of spending his time hanging out with other people and partying, Alfred chooses to use every second of his time drawing.

And it proved to be beneficial because he saw improvement in his art every single day. Every piece he drew was always better than the last, even if it was just a quick, messy sketch. Alfred always thought that art was flexible; it could be just about anything, and that was one of the aspects that Alfred admired about it. He doesn't see himself as a perfectionist, which was why he was so enthusiastic about drawing since he never saw any flaws in his art.

Unless it was Arthur Kirkland he was drawing.

Alfred sent his 'awful sketch' another glare. When did drawing become so stressful? It was suppose to be a stress reliever for him, yet staring at the his sketch of Arthur was causing irritation to boil. If only he could just get it  _ right _ .

Releasing a deep sigh, Alfred flipped onto the next blank page to redo his drawing. He rushed his last sketch, so now, he was going to take his time. Alfred began drawing the simple structure of the head, putting little dots next to the lines to mark Arthur's face proportions. This was all familiar to him, nothing new whatsoever; his hand moved in a practiced rhythm as though it had a mind of his own.

Unlike the first attempt, Alfred took more time analyzing Arthur's face, taking note of the prominent features before studying the more diminutive details. Since the other man was reading, it was easy for Alfred to copy the picture and transfer it to the paper.

The more Alfred stared, the slower his hand moved. After many years of practice, Alfred can successfully draw a picture without looking at his paper; a skill that he was using right now. For several minutes Alfred focused his sole attention on the handsome Englishman; he gazed at Arthur's pink-tinted lips, then to his small nose that was dusted with little freckles, which dotted all the way to his pale cheeks.

And then Alfred stared at his eyes, the most prominent features on Arthur's face. The emerald hue of his eyes were so brilliantly green that Alfred could never replicate them in paper. At this point Alfred realized that whatever drawing he'd produce, no matter how long it took, it would never perfectly catch the true beauty of Arthur Kirkland. None of Alfred's drawings would ever do him justice.

Alfred was unaware of the fact that he was blatantly staring at Arthur with a smile filled with so much adoration. Any thoughts about his drawing left his mind; all he thought of was how beautiful Arthur's eyes were and how they made him look even more gorgeous… and…

… they were staring straight at him.

Alfred felt his heart skip a beat.

Arthur was looking at him. Arthur was looking at  _ him _ .

Holy shit-

And Alfred was staring back like an  _ idiot. _

As much as he enjoyed the attention Arthur was giving him, Alfred didn't want to look creepy in front of the person he's been crushing on for several months. Hell, it was more than a simple crush. Arthur was his  _ muse _ .

Alfred looks back at his drawing. Once again, he criticizes himself for the little details he missed. However, the one detail that catches Alfred's attention were Arthur's eyes. Rather than drawing Arthur's irises looking down, he'd drawn them looking forward, as though Arthur was looking at the camera.

A deep scarlet flushed in Alfred's face. If he'd drawn Arthur’s eyes like  _ that _ , then that means Arthur had been staring back longer than he thought.

Alfred's frame shrunk in shame. Oh, god- he wanted to crawl into a hole and  _ die _ .

Arthur had finally acknowledged his existence, yet Alfred somehow had to mess up by looking stupid in front of him. Fuck… he was going to remember this dreadful day _ forever _ .

Alfred glanced up, mostly out of reflex, and he swore his heart skipped a beat once again. Arthur's eyes were still looking at him. When the Englishman noticed his gaze, he offered a small smile, waved, and then turned back to continue his reading.

Damn. Every little thing Arthur did made his heart race. Alfred might as well pull out his heart and offer it to him for goodness sake.

"That's a nice drawing." A voice whispered behind his ear.

Alfred snapped his head around, his eyes catching sight of Francis leaning down with a smirk on his face. The Frenchman was looking at something, and Alfred knew what it was.

Slapping his biology notebook on his drawing, Alfred glanced away, refusing to reply to Francis' complement as an attempt to shoo him away. Alfred feigned ignorance, as though he never noticed Francis' presence (even though it was obvious that he did).

Francis huffed as a response before retreating away. Alfred sighed in relief, giving himself a moment to relax until he saw Francis saunter over Arthur's table. Alfred's heart sank and his blood grew cold.

Only then did he remember that Francis and Arthur were friends.

And of course Francis was going to tell Arthur about the drawing that Alfred had made of him.

_ Shit, shit, shit! _

Alfred grabbed his bag before shoving all of his stuff inside. He made sure all of his art supplies were safely deposited, because he was  _ not  _ leaving a sketchbook full of portraits of Arthur behind. Once his table was fully clear, Alfred bolted out of the library to save himself from embarrassment.

…..

Arthur didn't bother to hide his frown as he watched the handsome American exit the library in a haste. He sighed heavily before closing his book. He didn't know Alfred was going to leave so soon. Perhaps he must have made the lad uncomfortable? Alfred did catch Arthur staring at him…

Releasing another dejected sigh, Arthur began gathering his notebooks and texts.

"Hello, mon ami~" Francis quietly sang as he approached his table. "I just saw something very interesting today."

"Not now, Francis," Arthur muttered bitterly.

Francis pulled out a chair before taking a seat. "You might want to hear about it, cher~"

Before Arthur could even reply, Francis leaned closer, his lips whispering a few words into his ear. Arthur's eyebrows furrowed deeply, incredulous by the information Francis was giving him.

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked for confirmation.

Francis almost laughed at Arthur's expression. The Englishman's eyes were practically sparkling in what appears to be excitement and  _ hope _ .

Once Francis had nodded, Arthur stood up immediately, almost knocking his chair backwards. He quickly zipped his bag closed before sprinting towards the exit, hoping he could catch up to Alfred.

Arthur didn't know if what Francis said was true, but god damn did he hope it was.


	7. Dancing in the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Under an Umbrella

Alfred and Arthur were just about to leave the school campus when rain started drizzling from the sky. Arthur suggested to either wait for the rain to stop or call one of their parents to pick them up. However, Alfred dismissed both of their options, stating that their parents would take ages to come here and the rain was weak enough for them to walk under with an umbrella.

Which was reasonable; but the only problem was... only Arthur had an umbrella.

"I think it might be too small to cover both of us," Arthur said as he pulled out a compact umbrella.

"Here give me." Alfred took the umbrella before opening it. After a few seconds of close inspection, he turned to Arthur with a grin, "It'll do!"

And it did work, especially since it was Alfred who held it over their heads. Although it was manageable, the pair had to squeeze close together to the point where they were shoulder to shoulder. They didn't mind, however, it was a little awkward and the close proximity made both of them flustered and quiet. By this time they should be bickering with each other or spilling tea and drama about their classmates, but the closeness and awkward atmosphere forced their lips shut.

It wasn't uncomfortable, far from that actually.

It's just that… both of them had insanely huge crushes on each other, but none of them have actually confessed yet. Probably because they've been friends since they were kids. It was weird to like your best friend, right? Wasn't it weird to imagine yourself kissing them? Hugging them? Touching them… intimately?

This was their mindset, their thoughts about having a non-platonic relationship. They'd often told themselves that it was weird to hold feelings for your best friend, because they were, well, your best friend. Just a _ friend _ . Nothing more. If they were to have a romantic relationship with each other, what would happen to their friendship if they broke up?

That was a scary idea to think about. They couldn't possibly imagine what life would be if they stopped talking to each other. They couldn't possibly throw away all those years they've spent together as friends.

But at the same time, they couldn't silence the raging emotions that were blossoming in their hearts. They've suppressed those feelings for many months, pushing and forcing them down whenever they tried to resurface. They were unwanted, _ forbidden _ things that shouldn't be roaming around freely whenever they wanted to.

The pair were half a mile away from Alfred's house when the rain started getting stronger. The raindrops slowly became heavier, rapping against their umbrella angrily. With the rain came a strong wind, gusting forcefully against them. It almost stole their umbrella, which became useless against the raging storm.

There weren't any houses or buildings they could find refuge in. Even if they ran as fast as they could, both of them would still be soaking head to toe by the time they reached Alfred's house.

"Who's great idea was this?!" Arthur yelled in an accusing tone. All of his notebooks and texts were probably ruined at this point.

Alfred huffed, both from the exertion and boiling annoyance. "I didn't know it was gonna get stronger!"

"Well, if you had listened to me, we wouldn't ha- ah!" Arthur screamed as his feet met a muddy pool, forcing his body to jerk backwards.

"Arthur!" Hearing his friend's cry, Alfred lets go of the umbrella to catch him. The momentum was awkward and he almost lost his balance, but fortunately, Alfred regained his stepping and avoided both him and Arthur from tumbling against the ground.

All of this placed them in an unexpected position; with one of Alfred's arms around Arthur's waist, the other grasping the latter's hand. To a third party's perspective, Alfred had Arthur in a dramatic dip, as though they just finished dancing.

For several seconds Alfred and Arthur stared at each other, speechless. Their eyes were locked together and they forgot about the catastrophe around them. They let their minds think freely of one another…  _ Oh god, he looks so gorgeous like this. I never knew Alfred's eyes were this blue. Wow, Artie has so much freckles! Bloody hell, when had Alfred turn this handsome? _

A trickle of rain dripped from Alfred's forehead, landing onto Arthur's nose. Only then did Arthur realize they were standing under the rain like  _ idiots _ .

"Alfred! The umbrella!"

"Wah?" Alfred pulled Arthur to his feet before whirling around to look for their umbrella, only to see it flying overhead, stolen completely by the wind. "Fuck!"

"Let's go! There's a bus stop over there!" Arthur cried before he and Alfred made a run for what seemed to be their only refuge.

Fortunately, the bus stop had an overhang large enough to shield them from the rain. They almost collapsed by the time they reached the bus stop, panting like dogs from all the running they've done. Their bags and clothes were already soaked completely, leaving Arthur in despair. All of his notes. His important documents. _ Ruined _ .

Arthur was about to rant about their situation, but his words were held back by a sneeze. And then another. "Bollocks," Arthur groaned before wiping his nose with his sleeve.

Alfred's head whirled back to look at Arthur, his blue eyes wide in shock. "Shit, Arthur, I'm so sorry," he apologized, his voice laced with worry. "Come here." He led Arthur to sit down before shrugging his jacket off his shoulder. "Take this."

Arthur eyed the jacket incredulously.

"It's fine. The outside is wet but the inside is still warm and dry. Take it," Alfred stressed, offering his bomber jacket once again. When Arthur didn't make a move, Alfred sighed before wrapping the jacket around Arthur himself. "Are you still cold?"

"No," Arthur replied.

Alfred knew he was lying. Despite wearing a jacket two sizes bigger than him, Alfred could still see Arthur shivering. Red was beginning to paint Arthur's cheeks and nose, confirming that yes, Arthur was still terribly cold.

Alfred sits down next to Arthur before placing a hand over his shoulder. "I can help you warm up. Is it okay if I put my arm around you?"

Arthur shook his head. "I'm fine, Alfred, t-truly."

"No, you're not. You're still shaking, you dummy," Alfred chided with a small scowl. Arthur's stubbornness was the last thing he wanted to deal with in a situation like this. "I have to do this. It's your fault for always getting sick so easily."

"Might I remind you of who got us in this situation in the first place?" Arthur retorted, making Alfred's scowl diminish instantly. It was replaced by a frown filled with guilt.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Alfred apologizes again, almost desperate this time. His apology was genuine, and Arthur knew that as well. "Just… let me do this for you, okay? It's my fault so let me fix it."

Arthur stared at him quietly for a few seconds before muttering, "Alright."

Once Alfred had his approval, he scooted closer to Arthur, taking away the space between them. Alfred cloaked Arthur's shoulders with his arm, hoping his body temperature was enough to keep him warm.

"I think you're getting sick too," Arthur pointed out. "Your face is red."

"Huh?" Alfred finally noticed the heat in his cheeks. "Oh, I'm uh… I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Arthur brings a hand forward to cup Alfred's cheeks, to feel if there was any heat, but this action only urged his face to become warmer and red. "See?! You have a fever!"

Alfred, still flustered, grabbed Arthur's wrist before prying it off his flushed cheeks. "Artie, I'm fine, I promise. Just focus on yourself, alright?" he said with a nervous chuckle.

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but once again, a sneeze interrupted him.

Alfred snickered. "Geez, you sneeze like a kitten."

"Shut up!" Arthur exclaimed, turning his face away to hide his embarrassment.

For several minutes they both remained silent; nothing but the sound of rainfall echoed in their ears. Both of them wanted to say something to kill the awkward, almost painful atmosphere they've conjured upon themselves. What were they even supposed to say while they were in this position? Sure they've hugged and sat close to each other before; but never in a situation like this. Other people wouldn't give their best friend their jacket and offer an arm around their shoulders to keep them warm, would they?

Alfred frowned at that thought. He contemplated his friendship with Arthur. Can he even call Arthur his friend after thinking about him in a way that wasn't… platonic? Like he said; friends don't spend their days imagining kissing and hugging their friend intimately. They don't feel weird emotions in their hearts whenever they see them smile, laugh, or just… seeing them in general.

Glancing down at Arthur, Alfred thought about how he desperately wanted to duck down and kiss Arthur's pink lips. How he wanted to wrap his arms around his shoulders whenever he wanted to. He thought about how his heart raced whenever he saw Arthur, and how it ached whenever he saw him leave. He thought about Arthur's smile, and his sweet laugh that sounded like little bells.

Alfred could feel the suppressed emotions begin to surface once again. They broke through their confinement, as they always do before rushing forward.

And for the first time, Alfred let them free.

"Arthur," Alfred muttered, suddenly overwhelmed by the rush of emotions. It made him slightly lightheaded, and dazed. His heart was surrounded with so much warmth. "Arthur, I…"

Alfred glanced down to look at Arthur. When he saw his emerald eyes, twinkling just for  _ him _ , Alfred knew he wanted Arthur to be something more than just a friend.

"Arthur, I lo-"

Alfred's words were muffled by a loud car horn.

Their heads snapped forward to see a bright red car parked in front of them. The window closest to them slid down, revealing Gilbert and Francis sitting inside wearing matching smirks.

"Get in, lovebirds!" Gilbert had yelled before laughing hysterically.

Alfred didn't know what to do first: cry in despair or push Gilbert off a cliff.


	8. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Telling a Secret

Arthur could do nothing but stare into the glowing ruby eyes of the man standing before him. The darkness in the room seemed to wrap around the eyes, making them more prominent than they already are. A question lingered in Arthur's mind, a question he already knew the answer of, yet he manages to still ask,

"What did you do to me?" Arthur's voice came with a strained whisper, almost spitting the words out as though they were poison.

The man rose an amused brow, the glow of his eyes providing Arthur a look of the grin curling on the man's shadowy face.

"I'm the Joker," he said with a deep chuckle. "What do you think I did?"

"You marked me," Arthur snapped, pushing himself off the bed he'd fallen on earlier. "You _marked me_."

The Joker only releases another laugh. "It's what I do. It's my job."

"Why?" Arthur pressed, his own eyes desperate to elicit an answer from the Joker. Never in his life did he think he would encounter this being. Why him? Why did the Joker pick him? He wasn't anything special.

Instead of answering Arthur's question, the Joker bowed. Arthur didn't know if it was to respect or mock him.

"Have a good night, Your Majesty," he said as he walked back, disappearing into the darkness.

* * *

Arthur left his house after breakfast, announcing to his parents of the errand he needed to complete. After saying a quick goodbye, Arthur called for the nearest carriage and journeyed to the outskirts of their little town.

He was dropped near a small farm. As he followed the path leading to a house, Arthur clutched the front of his tunic to calm his heart. The incident last night continued to haunt him, it fueled his anxiety and fear. Arthur could still vividly remember the ominous red glow of the Joker's eyes, and his eerie grin that reached all of the way to his ears. It was a haunting memory that followed Arthur all through the night and even now.

If someone had encountered the Joker, they would have instantly informed their parents, their friends, and most importantly, the palace.

Arthur wasn't planning on telling anyone except for _him_.

Once he reached the back of the house, Arthur sauntered to the front door. Surely the family inside were awake already. Just before Arthur reached the corner of the house, a hand latched onto his mouth from behind, pulling him back to pin him against the wall with a loud thud. The hand pressed tightly against his mouth was quickly replaced by a pair of lips, sweet and desperate as they molded against Arthur's.

The familiar scent of hay and fresh, rich soil pacified Arthur's fight or flight instincts, pulling him into a state of bliss and ecstasy instead. He reciprocated, happily welcoming and savoring the touch he hasn't felt in weeks.

When they parted for breath, Arthur opened his eyes to see a handsome face framed by wheat-blonde hair. Crystal blue eyes twinkled behind a pair of spectacles, matching the beaming smile on his sun-kissed face, which appeared to be blotched with dirt and oil.

"Didn't expect you to drop by," Alfred said, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle. "Gods, how long has it been?"

Alfred's head ducked down to steal another kiss before grazing his lip across Arthur's jaw, running them down all the way to the latter's neck. Arthur, still breathless, choked out, "Alfred, we need to talk. Quickly."

"We can talk now." Alfred's breath tickled the soft skin underneath, sending Arthur weak at the knees.

"No, not here-" A giggle caught both of their attention. A little boy by the name Matthew, Alfred's younger brother, slapped a hand against his mouth before pulling his head back behind the tree he was hiding in. "Somewhere more private."

Alfred led him inside the house. His parents were so kind to offer him breakfast, knowing that he'd traveled miles from the town to come here, but Arthur had declined, claiming he’d already eaten. Nonetheless, Alfred's parents, just as stubborn as their son, managed to sit him down on their dining table, a stack of pancakes drizzled with sweet syrup and strawberries ready and plated in front of him.

"Sorry," Alfred whispered beside him, but he doesn't bother to hide his amused grin.

Meanwhile, Matthew sat across from them, and instead of minding his own business, he puckered up his lips and mocked the couple’s early interaction before fake-gagging. This earned him a whack against the head with a spatula by his mother. "Don't be rude," she chided with a scowl. 

After their breakfast, Alfred and Arthur walked up the stairs to hide inside the former's room. They shut the door behind them and settled themselves on the bed.

"You're all shaken up," Alfred said, placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder to soothe him. "Did something happen at home?"

"Yes," Arthur answered. He could already see Alfred's face twist into worry, his eyes clouded with an abundance of questions. "L-last night-" Arthur started, but he is unable to spit out the words he wanted to say.

This raised Alfred's anxiety. "Arthur? What happened?" When Arthur continued to look distraught and lost, Alfred squeezed his shoulder in a soothing manner. "Just take a deep breath, sweetheart, stay calm and take your time."

"Promise me you won't tell anyone," Arthur said, grabbing Alfred's other hand. If he can't tell him, then Arthur was going to show it instead.

Alfred's eyes widened for a second. He lowered his voice, "Arthur, what did you do?"

"I didn’t do anything," he confessed. He looked around as though they were being watched. "Just… promise me you'll keep this as a secret. Please?"

Alfred nodded without a second thought.

With that confirmation, Arthur reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging it down just enough for Alfred to see the burden that has taken refuge on his chest.

Just as he'd expected, Alfred was flabbergasted. His mouth was agape, and his eyes glanced between Arthur and his chest.

"You've been marked," Alfred spat out after minutes of silence, his eyes still as wide as quarters. "You've got the mark of a Queen. Arthur, oh my god…-!"

"Shhh!" Arthur stressed, forcing Alfred to still. "Don't be so loud! They'll hear you!"

Alfred blinked several times. "Do your parents know of this?"

"No," he answered. "Just you."

"You haven't told anyone yet?"

"I'm not planning to."

Alfred gawked. "Arthur, this is crazy! You're marked as the next Queen of Spades; why would you hide this?"

"Because I don't want to be the Queen."

Arthur should have felt honored to wear the mark of a royal. Especially a mark of a _Queen_. Solely having the mark on one's chest would deliver great fortune and respect because it was believed to be a gift from the Gods. Those who were marked almost always become great leaders for the kingdom, thus giving them all favor and respect by the citizens, regardless of who they were in the past. Be it a commoner or a criminal, all previous actions were to be pardoned for the sake of the kingdom.

It was a golden opportunity that must not be dismissed at all cost, yet Arthur chose to conceal it. Mostly because that meant he was to be taken and tied down to the palace, never to see his family and friends again. The mark had already claimed his body, but an official coronation would mean his life and soul would forever belong to the crown.

Arthur's heart clenched at that thought. "I want to stay here. With my family and you."

Alfred was still shaken and distressed by the revelation. "What would your family think? Surely they'd be overjoyed about this," Alfred pointed out. "You're going to be a _Queen_ , Arthur."

The latter was taken aback by Alfred's response. "Alfred, you don't get it. Becoming the Queen means leaving my old life. I won’t be able to come back to this place. I won’t be able to come back to _you_.”

The realization hit Alfred like a pile of bricks. His lips curved to a deeper frown, and his eyes turned grim, as though he discovered the death of a loved one.

"I can't do that, Alfred," Arthur confessed, his eyes turning glassy. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Alfred was quiet for several minutes, leaving the room painfully quiet. Arthur could already feel the tears slipping out from his eyes, falling down his flushed cheeks like rivers.

Finally, after having a long moment to think, Alfred spoke, "Any sane person would have called the palace immediately upon your marking." He lifted his hand to Arthur's face, wiping away the warm tears. Then, Alfred smiled. "But… I promise I won't tell anyone. Because you would have done the same if it were me."

Joy and relief blossomed in Arthur's heart. He pounced on Alfred to embrace him, sending the other man flat on his back atop the bed.

"Thank you."

* * *

Although Alfred promised not to disclose the secret, the promise was broken when the Joker paid Alfred a visit on the day the King of Spades was announced dead.


End file.
